Beautiful Disaster
by Calla Mae
Summary: Fear and love, darkness and light. They were as different as night and day, and yet they were the same. How much could one woman change Pitch, enough to keep his heart from turning black? But what happens when people stop believing in Pitch, and believe in her instead? PitchxOC
1. he drowns in his dreams

Pitch Black.

That's what the world was. Who he was. He ruled his dark world in fear, and he reveled in it. All humans believed in him, young and old. He truly was the nightmare king – there wasn't an ounce of light in the world.

Until suddenly there was.

…

"Hello?" she called when she saw a person, trying to get someone's attention. She couldn't remember anything; her name, her age. She had pulled herself, soaking wet, out of the ocean. She hadn't even recognized her own reflection. Not the pale blond hair, not the blue eyes or the frowning lips. She didn't know a single thing about herself. It was almost as though she didn't exist.

"Excuse me," she said coming to stand in front of the woman. "Do you know where I -," she stopped startled when the woman walked straight through her, as though she wasn't there at all.

She tried to breathe, feeling her heart race as a man walked through her next. And then a child, and then a horse. Over and over again people walked by and through her without noticing she was there.

She turned in circles trying to find someone who could see her, before she finally ran away from the small village. She found herself back at the water's edge, staring at the solemn face in the water. Try as she might she couldn't remember the woman staring back at her.

A sense of panic swelled in her as she stared at her face in the water. Until she saw the reflection of the moon, and then all fear and trepidation left her. She looked down at her feet and picked up the bow and slung it on her shoulder and fitted the belt holding arrows around her waist, as though they had been made to be worn by her.

It was then, her head upturned to look at the moon, that she heard a voice whisper her name: _Cupid._

* * *

_This is something that has been bothering me since I saw the movie and so I've decided to write the first chapter. I know there are already some cupid stories, however my cupid isn't the traditional one - and she does have a fear that will draw Pitch to her.  
So if you're interested in reading more please let me know. I have a few other stories I haven't finished yet so let me know whether anyone wants to read more. _


	2. an exquisite extreme I know

_LegolasLover: thank you so much, I'm so glad you already like it. _

* * *

He missed it at first, for she was still so new. He did not see the small light flickering in the few people she had touched; his nightmares had diminished her light too quickly for him to see. He did not even know of her, at least not yet.

…

She walked back into the village, feeling the strange tingling when a child ran through her, but no one saw her. She stood in front of people and yelled, she threw things at them; no one saw or heard.

And then she wondered.

"Excuse me?" she asked reaching out her hand, touching the young man's shoulder. Her touch disintegrated leaving a shimmering pink cloud in its wake that too disappeared. But she felt the change, she felt it as clear as he did.

Her heart raced when he turned to the woman next him, and she watched enraptured at the man kissed the shocked woman.

A fire bloomed in her chest, and for the first time since she had pulled herself out of the water she found that she could breathe. She slammed her hand on the woman's back – a touch only felt by cupid – and as the shining mist disappeared the woman returned the man's kiss.

A smile spread on her face, the first one she could ever remember making, and she turned her head up at the moon. "Can I?" she whispered.

It wasn't so much a voice as it was apart of her, but she understood it all the same. She notched an arrow and aimed it at a woman smiling up at man. The arrow disintegrated in the same shimmery smoke as her touch had, and when she looked down she saw the arrow back in the quiver.

There was no need for her touch, when the woman leaned into the man the man captured her mouth first. Cupid laughed, a small sound that startled her, and then she made it again. She ran through the village, sometimes only passing through people and other times touching them. She stood in a barn soaking in the feeling of lust between two people, her eyes closed and small smile on her face; she had never felt so alive.

…

She spent months watching the people, waiting for the perfect moment to loose an arrow. And then she stood close and breathed in the smell of their love, the only thing they could give her. She needed it, she craved it. Love, love all around her.

The moon never spoke to her again after that, instead she was trapped in silence. Not a single soul knew she was there. She tried standing in front of a handsome man and gently touching his face – seeing the love bloom in his eyes only for him to pass through her and capture the lips of the woman behind her. It was not her mouth being devoured, it was not her body pressed against his.

Cupid hated the woman, hated the woman for kissing the man _she _had found. Cupid found another man, this one older, and she touched him softly. As soft as her touch was it did what she wanted, the man grabbed the woman and began kissing her himself. And when the woman pushed him away Cupid slapped her hard across the cheek, and the woman fought the man no more.

She turned to the handsome man she had found and stood in front of him, taking in his blue eyes and dark hair. Sadness reigned in his eyes as he watched the woman kissing another, and Cupid touched his cheek softly.

He looked at her. He looked straight into her eyes and she felt her heart swell. She felt the familiar tingling of someone walking through her and she stared broken hearted as a young woman reached up and kissed the man.

…

"Well well well," Pitch hummed as his yellow eyes followed the strange pale woman racing through the village, "what do we have here?"


	3. he's as damned as he seems

_She was the light to his dark – the love to his fear. She destroyed the fear he cast on people just as he tore apart those touched by her love. It was a battle they waged, only she did not know she was at war. _

_She didn't even know there was anyone who could see her. But he could. He followed her and watched. And when she left he spread fear and darkness among those she left behind. And then he too left to follow after her. _

_He trailed after her for months, seeing the gentle way she brought people together; watching her upturned face, her large eyes closed, as she reveled in the love she created. It was enough to make him sick – with hatred, with envy that she could find joy in something so _good_._

_But there were times, when he watched her the closest, that he could see the greed lying behind her actions. In each village and city she came to she found a young man – always dark haired, always blue eyed – and she would watch him. She would follow him, sit right in front of him; trying to get as close to him as she could but it made no difference, no one ever saw her. _

_He watched her as she blindly fell in love, each dark haired blue eyed man similar in their features. And he waited until the moment that always came – when she touched them, and they fell in love with someone else. _

_One young man she had placed her hand on his chest, directly over his heart, and he had gone to the nearest person – a man. The next she softly pressed her lips against his, and still the man walked through her and took another woman in his arms. The next man, and the last, she sat on the edge of his bed after staying with him for weeks and stroked his cheek. The man had nearly gone mad in his need to find someone, yelling and screaming at his need for another's embrace; until finally he found it in the woman who lived next door. _

_All the while she had tried comforting him, stroking his hair – which made him even more frenzied and deranged – speaking soothingly. But what could it ever do, he could not see her? _

_It was in that moment that Pitch began to realize the great power she possessed. And it was following her for a few years after that he fully understood the great ally she could be – she could destroy civilizations with a single touch. Spreading love and lust and leaving hatred in its wake. _

_But she found no joy in it, he only saw her sadness. Her utter, agonizing sadness that so mirrored his own. He saw her joy only once, in that of a child – her first. _

…

"Look," a little girl said pointing toward a man and woman kissing, "there's another."

"And another," the girl's brother said pointing at a new couple now in each other's arms. "What do you think is causing it?"

"Hmm," the little girl hummed as she pondered. "Maybe it's a person," she wondered excitedly.

"That makes all the grown ups kiss?" her brother questioned sarcastically. "Besides," he said trying to sound older, "why can we not see them."

"I don't know," she answered meekly. She shuffled her feet as her brother left laughing at her, feeling the threat of tears.

She gasped when she looked up to see a woman with pale hair staring back at her surprised. The woman was beautiful, a long gown the color of flushed cheeks. But what caused the little girl such shock was that the woman hadn't been there moments before. "Who are you?" she asked coming to stand in front of her.

Cupid stared down at the little girl in utter bafflement. She was looking at her, talking to her. "You can see me?" she asked timidly.

The girl nodded emphatically. "Are you the one making all the old people fall in love?"

"Yes," Cupid answered softly, wondering if perhaps she were only dreaming. No one had ever seen her before.

"What's your name?" the girl asked when the woman said no more.

"Cupid," she said, shocked nearly to tears when the little girl took her hand.


	4. and more heaven than a heart could hold

Things changed after that. Not immediately nor drastically. But the name Cupid spread from the little girl to the rest of the children in the small village, and then naturally to the parents. Nothing much was thought of it, just a child's story, until more and more children claimed to have seen the pale woman.

Cupid herself was changing, feeling not so sad; not looking for her dark haired blue eyed man so desperately as before. Why would she, there were people who could see her. Everywhere she went, the longer she stayed and the more she focused on the young, her name began to spread like wild fire. She was a reality, and when two people suddenly fell in love they knew who to thank – sometimes who to curse.

But as much wonder and joy that was to be found in finally being seen, it did not make the one man she wanted to see her. She had found another man, this one someone she couldn't help but feel that she knew, but he did not see her. All the other men she had found, that she thought she loved, paled in comparison; they were falsities, inadequate substitutes.

This man knew her name, he could describe what she looked like; his son had told him of other children's tales; but never did the man see her. She followed him, watching him without ceasing. She spent months at his side, watching him love his son as was his father's duty, watching as he laboriously worked, watching as he wept some nights. She loved him, as she had no other; and she had foolishly convinced herself that this time it would be different, that he would see her. But he didn't, for she never touched him.

Many a time she had tried to, only to pull away. She did not wish to hurt him as she had the last, and she could not bear to see him love another. But what really stayed her hand was a drawing he kept near him always, of a woman with long hair – there were others, several other drawings of her – but this one he carried with him. It had taken her months of standing at his side as he looked at it, traced it with his fingers, until she recognized the woman's face; it was her.

That was the last she saw of that village, of the man she knew and yet didn't know. She moved on, holding the man's face in her heart – carrying her own drawing of him in her pocket until it faded and she could hardly see the lines of his face.

She moved from village to village, city to city, never staying in one place. Nor did she spread so much love that she was noticed, and never did she try to find another dark haired blue eyed man – why would she, she had found the one she wanted only for him not to see her. And try as she might she could not remember him. And so she continued moving about, a gypsy as people would call her.

Lonely people, those were all she would touch. She would find a person who walked about sadly, feeling the emptiness in their heart, and she would find for them their match. She gave them what she herself could not have.

She had just arrived at a new city when she felt it – the loneliest person she had ever felt. And so she searched for him. It was not an easy task, especially when the person did not want to be seen. But she found him none-the-less, and she was surprised when she did.

His back was to her but she could see the strangeness about him. His skin was gray and his cloak as black as a shadow. But the strangest part of him were his eyes, which she saw when he turned around. The closer to him she stepped the more his loneliness engulfed, and she could not stop herself from reaching her hand up to his cheek.

She gasped in surprise when he grabbed her wrist, keeping her from touching him. "Hello Cupid."

* * *

_Guest: thank you very much for reviewing.  
_

_So I'm thinking of doing next chapter kind of Pitch's POV, cause he's noticed things about Cupid that she hasn't taken much note of - which is important for her. So I hope to do his character justice when I write his thoughts. Thank you all so much for reading and reviewing, it all really means a lot to me._


	5. and if I try to save him

She was even lovelier in person. Her long pale hair hanging in loose curls down her back, her dress the color of flushed cheeks looking lovely against her white skin, and her blue eyes staring up at him in shock.

"You see me?" she asked though she knew he could; it was obvious, he would not be touching her if he couldn't.

He smiled at her, one that sent a shiver down her spine. "I've been seeing you for years," he said lowly, his voice a seductive timbre. "Each time you fell in love, each time your heart was broken." He stepped forward when she backed away, keeping himself close to her. "That last one, he was special wasn't he?"

She did not like the glint in his yellow eyes, she did not trust it; did not trust him. "No," she lied shaking her head.

"You stayed with him longer than all the others," he said moving closer so she was forced back. "You mourn him, I can see it in your eyes." And he could, he had seen the pain in her when she finally left the man; he could see the palpable fear in her eyes. But he could not feel what it was she was afraid of, all he could feel was her love.

He continued stepping closer when she stepped back, cornering her against a tree. He heard her gasp when her back rubbed against the bark. "Is your back sore?" he asked feigning innocence. "It _has_ been bothering you for a long while now."

…

_He had not noticed it before, but he slowly began to notice it the more it bothered her. The more she spread her love the more frequent she began to scratch at her back. Many a time she had left marks on her skin from her nails, the itching driving her mad. But as quickly as it came it drifted away and she could sit comfortably once more. _

_But what she did not notice was what was making her back ache; something only he could see from behind her. There was a slight shifting beneath her skin, as though something was struggling to break free. It had been bothering her for years, but she had taken no real note of it. She was too enraptured in her love. _

…

He looked into her shocked eyes, seeing she was afraid but not feeling her fear. "Why can I not feel your fear?" he growled, his anger growing.

"I don't understand," she said softly, her voice shaking.

He could see she was confused, that she was scared of him. But he couldn't _feel_ she was afraid. "What are you afraid of?" he demanded, his face barely inches from her. He could feel her chest rising and falling rapidly as she breathed, knowing he was scaring her. "Why can't I feel what scares you?"

"I, I don't know," she stuttered as he stared down at her nearly snarling.

He didn't know what to do, never before had he not known someone's fears. He had always been able to see it, to exploit it. But he felt nothing from her. Nothing but love.

"Oh," he breathed, his dark eyes clearing.

She watched him warily as he let out a small laugh – really a half giggle. She did not like the way he was looking at her, as would a shark before his prey. She pressed her back further into the tree, feeling how tender it was and wondering if she was hurt, trying to get as far away from him as he leered over her.

"What is it about love that scares you?" he asked softly, whispering in her ear.

She shivered at his breath on her skin, seeing something dark creeping around them; black clouds, thick and dark, masking everything but him.

He laughed darkly at seeing her obvious terror, as she realized he was like her. He overwhelmed her with her love, with the love she could never have returned to her. "Does it frighten you to be alone? That no one will ever love you?"

_There,_ he thought, _there's her fear._ He could feel it, how he had missed it before was unknown to him. All he could feel was her crippling need to spread love, to feel it – to feed on it. She knew that no one would love her, that she would never have someone to give her love to – the very love that threatened to drown her – and it terrified her. He laughed as the shadows of his nightmares consumed her in a black cloud, feeling the pounding of her heart as it tore her apart.

He melted into shadow when she crumpled to the ground, watching her unnoticed as she gasped for breath – looking about her with half crazed eyes. She all but disappeared when she began running, blurring into a wave of movement. He followed after her slowly, her love now a beacon guiding him to her.

He knew the moment he saw the island that something was wrong; it was shrouded in the shining pink mist that was her love, the sound of chaos reaching his ears. He had not known the destruction he would cause, he had not known he would leave her to bring an entire civilization to oblivion.


	6. my whole world would cave in

He had never seen the extent in which her love could spread. It seemed as if she had touched every living thing, needing to feel their hearts quicken with love. It was what she thrived on, like he needed their fear. Only never had he afflicted so much on them, not like she had. He could hardly breathe without smelling the sugary sweet warm vanilla of her love, it was suffocating him.

It was nothing compared to how it effected the inhabitants of the island. He could hear people screaming – in terror, frustration, ecstasy – chaos swarmed all around him. There were men with women, men with men, women with women, people with animals. It was too much, there was too much love. It was destroying these people, something they were not meant to do.

He could smell a fire, several fires in fact. The screams were growing louder, the smell of vanilla growing stronger. He needed to find Cupid, she was still touching people. He moved through the island seeing that many of the people were destroying buildings in their frustrated rage. The further he moved the louder the screams grew, and he began to realize that they were turning on each other.

His fear did nothing, it only further hurt them sending them in a frenzied panic. And so he ceased trying to spread darkness, the cloud of pink mist was dark enough as it shrouded them. Instead he moved past them, watching as they tore everything apart. And still he could not find her. He came to the center of the screaming only to hear a fresh new wave of discord start somewhere further.

He knew this was his doing, he had not realized how his fear would hurt her. Now, that it was becoming too late, he realized she was so wracked with loneliness it was unbearable. Staring at the horror he made did not give him joy as it should have, it burned him with shame.

Everywhere he looked there were people, most unclothed and writhing together, but he did not see the pale woman he was searching for. For those who had been touched first he watched horrified as they threw themselves into the sea. There was nothing he could do, nothing but watch as they drowned themselves.

He heard a scream that was closer to a whimper and he ran towards her, knowing in the midst of chaos the smallest sound was what he should look for. He found her with tear tracks marring her pretty face, scratching at her back. She seemed oblivious to the anarchy she'd caused, unless that had been the source of her tears. But he could tell from her reddened nails that her back was hurting her, and so he was not sure.

All he knew was that he needed to calm her, so she would touch no one else. She jumped and screamed when he touched her, backing away from him – obviously scared of him. Guilt filled his soul as tried to hold her, seeing she was more broken than he could ever have imagined.

She struggled and fought him, trying to twist her way out of his arms, but he gave her no choice; her back was to his chest and he held her hands in his and wrapped both their arms around her. She eventually let him hold her and she wilted in his arms as she wept – for her pain, for what she had caused. She cried and he held her, and all the while the people on the island threw themselves to the ocean. And all the while he felt a twitching in her back, the rolling of something trying just as frantically as the drowning people to be released.

* * *

_I guess the civilization she just destroyed could be Atlantis, if you want to look at it that way. Next chapter will explain what's going on with her back._


	7. it just ain't right

He sat watching as she laid on the ground whimpering. She hadn't noticed when all the people on the island had thrown themselves to sea, when they all died. They were alone now, completely in silence. It had been too much love, she had hurt people – made them hurt themselves – and he could not help but wonder if she were being punished for it.

It made him sick to listen as she whimpered, to see her back scratched raw from her nails; and yet no relief was found. But it was nothing compared to her screams; shrill and loud and full of pain. Her back would jolt, something would shift beneath her skin, and she'd scream. And when it passed she was left in tears.

Other times she'd claw at her back, raking her nails along it and drawing blood, crying as she did it. There was nothing for him to do, and so he sat near her and watched her pain – feeling ashamed he had been the one to cause it. He could see now she was broken, more than he'd realized; he'd ruined what ever strength she'd had, and now there she lay crying.

He looked down at the feather in his hand, one she had pulled out of her back, and he twirled it in his fingers. He knew what was coming, and he knew her screaming would only grow louder – her pain would only multiply.

And he was right. A few minutes later she gave a long shriek and her entire body twitched. It came to the point he had to hold her still; he held her arms against his chest and pulled her close, resting his chin on her head as he listened to her scream continuously. It seemed like hours before she stopped, before her body ceased convulsing. And when she did he carried her to the ocean where he cleaned the mess that was her back.

And as he'd thought, when he finished the wings that had torn through her skin were covered with feathers as white as snow. He didn't know what the emotion swirling in her eyes was, and so he was surprised when she spoke.

"You never told me your name."

Her voice was soft, weak after hours of screaming in pain, but it was still sweet. He hadn't expected anything but her hatred, but again he had underestimated her loneliness. And her goodness; for he had stayed, and not only that he had cared for her. Besides she could see the regret in his eyes, see it in his heart. He was just as lonely as she was.

He looked down at her blue eyes, kneeling in the water, seeing her wet hair and her soaking dress. She looked like a drowned angel. "Pitch," he told her quietly as he carried back onto the island.

She was already looking around before he set her on her feet, and he could see from her knitted brows that she was growing distressed. It was all plain her wide tear filled eyes as she turned to him, and once again he felt a surge of guilt at having been the cause of all of this.

"What happ-? Did I do th-?" She didn't know what to ask, what to say. She remembered touching everything and feeling like she had done too much, and then the pain started.

He followed her eyes to the bodies on the shore, most unclothed, and all drowned. There were still several out at sea, they were dead too.

"No."

He turned at the sound of her whisper, feeling the self hatred and despair growing within her.

"I did this," she said, tears falling from her eyes as she looked around herself horrified. "I killed them."

"Cupid," he said reaching for her.

"No," she said pushing him away. "No, I killed them. They're dead. They're all dead."

He reached for her again, and again she pushed him away with a cry. "Stop, Cupid," he ordered but she didn't listen. She fought him, crying and pleading as he tried to hold on to her. Finally he held both her arms in her hands and she wilted to the ground.

She screamed in agony as she cried and he looked down at her with such pity, such shame that he could do nothing but take her in his arms. "It is alright," he said trying to soothe her. "You are going to be alright." He felt her shaking in his arms as she wept, and listening to her broken sobs his heart almost broke. He hadn't meant for this. "Breathe," he said stroking her hair, hearing her small gasps before another sob wracked through her. "You just need to breathe."

He held her for a long while, even after she had stopped crying. He held her and she let him, and they both sat hating themselves for what they'd done. That moment bound them together. It was the first time Pitch had cared for anyone other than himself in a long time, and it was the first time anyone had cared for her. This moment in time marked the beginning of many things, a lot of which ended in destruction – and in love.


End file.
